


Unexpected Recruiting

by hunteriheroici (spacebarista)



Series: Non Timebo Mala, Non Timebo Mortem [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe- Assassin's Creed, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-08
Updated: 2013-04-08
Packaged: 2017-12-07 21:07:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/753085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacebarista/pseuds/hunteriheroici
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not every day a pretty girl finds an injured Assassin on the side of the road.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unexpected Recruiting

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this for my friend Sam on tumblr, who wanted to see how Dean and Jo would meet in the AC!AU.

It was supposed to be an easy job. In Nebraska, of all places. And, with most things in his life, it was never as easy as it was supposed to be.

Dean Winchester growled as another stab of pain shot through him. He glanced down at his hand, covered in blood as it covered the gash in his side. He knew he was bleeding in other places, but this earned more of his attention. He’d lost a lot of blood; he couldn’t stop now. He had to find his car, he had to get somewhere safe. They could catch up with him. He’d gotten too far to get caught.

His foot caught on a crack in the road and he toppled to the ground. Dean groaned, rolling over so his back rested on the asphalt. He knew he had to get up- to keep moving. But he was tired, worn out. Weak. He didn’t even have the energy to pray- if he even believed in a higher power. He closed his eyes, breathing in and out. Counting until his last. He vaguely heard the sound of a car coming closer and stopping.

_I guess they found me already. My blood led them to me._

He prepared for the end, as a door opened and closed, and frantic footsteps came closer.

_Resquiescat in pace, Dean Winchester. It’s been nice being you._

“Hey, you okay?”

_And it’s still nice being you._

Opening his eyes was a struggle, but he managed it. A young blonde woman hovered over him, a concerned look on her pretty face. Dean swallowed, struggling to smile reassuringly. “I’m fine, no worries. Move along, miss.” He closed his eyes again, grateful that the sight of a pretty girl would be one of his last memories. He waited for her to move, but she didn’t.

“I don’t think bleeding all over the street with a delusional smile on your face qualifies you as ‘okay’,” she chided. Dean heard the sound of her boots again as she moved to kneel next to him. “Do you want me to call an ambulance or something?”

He opened his eyes again, watching as she looked him over, her fingers ghosting over the cut on his head. She checked out the cuts in his arm almost hidden by his jacket. Then she moved down to his side, and looked back up at him with more urgency. “You know you’re cut pretty bad here, right?”

“You know, I didn’t notice with all the pain and the blood that my side was wide open, thanks for telling me.” 

The girl looked about ready to slap him, if he wasn’t already half dead. “We have to get you to a hospital.”

“No,” Dean said as firmly as he could. “No hospitals.”

“No hospitals? You’re probably dying right now!”

He shook his head. “No hospitals. Anywhere but a hospital.”

“But I-” She stopped, thinking something over. Finally she bent, helping him to sit up. “C’mon. I know where I can take you.”

Dean groaned, letting her help him to his feet. “Where?”

She draped his arm over her shoulder and walked him over to her car. “My mom owns a bar nearby. There’s rooms and the like. We can try and patch you up there.”

“Is it safe?” He struggled to get in the passenger seat. When she didn’t answer he looked back at her. She seemed even more confused with his question than anything else. “ _Is it safe?_ ”

She nodded before shutting the door and moving to get into the driver’s side. Once settled, she turned back to him. “Look, dude. I don’t know what you’re doin’ out here, all cut up and bleedin’ everywhere. But I can promise you, whatever you’re runnin’ from, you’ll be safe at the Roadhouse. Okay?”

Dean was still suspicious. Templars were very good at creating sleeper cells. The “Roadhouse” could very much be one. But at the same time, this girl looked sincere. And he wouldn’t mind a warm bed, food, and some bandages. He nodded. “Okay. Okay, I’ll go.”

She nodded and turned her attention to the road. Dean closed his eyes, sinking back into the seat, the sound of the car luring him to sleep.

-^-

He heard two women arguing, the pretty girl and an older woman.

“We have to help him; we can’t just let him die!”

“Joanna Beth, we don’t even know who he is! He could be a dangerous fugitive for all we know.”

“We’d have heard if a guy busted out of prison, mom.”

He felt someone helping him out of his jacket, then cutting his shirt open. 

“Oh, my God.”

“What is it?”

“ _It can’t be._ ”

“Can’t be what?”

“Joanna, get me the first aid kit. You know the one.”

“We never use-”

“ _Go get it!_ ”

The voices faded out again as Dean welcomed unconsciousness. When he awoke, a middle-aged woman sat by his side, staring at something wrapped in a deep red cloth. He turned his head towards her and tried to speak, only to hear a rasp come from his dry mouth. She simply glanced at him before grabbing a glass of water from the side table and holding it out to him, making sure he could reach the straw. 

“Drink.” Dean eyed her and the water warily. She sighed and held it closer. “It’s not poisoned.”

Dean supposed she wouldn’t lie about it. He could feel bandages on his arms and around his middle. No reason to patch him up if she was just going to poison him. He leaned up and sipped from the glass, savoring every bit of water. He leaned back into the pillows, running a hand over the bandages over his stomach. “I’m at the Roadhouse, I assume?”

The woman nodded. “Yeah. My daughter brought you here the night before last. You’ve been in and out since. Not surprised with the heavy damage you took.”

He nodded back, closing his eyes. “She said I’d be safe here.”

“You are safe here, Assassin.”

Dean’s eyes snapped open at that. Her eyes were wary now, and she gripped the item in her hands even tighter. “How do you know what I am?”

She gestured to him. “Your tattoo.”

Dean glanced down at his chest. His tattoo, the Assassin sigil in a circle of flames, was one of the only unscarred surfaces left on his body. When he looked back at the woman, she was holding out the item for him to examine. Dean took it gently and unwrapped it. It was the Assassin sigil, large and cast in silver, and a leather bracer. A belt buckle and the Assassin hidden blade. Dean didn’t know many Assassins who wore the large buckle anymore. His dad did once, until the brotherhood learned to be more discreet. But the blade was still standard issue. “Is this yours?”

Dean knew the answer before she gave it. “My husband’s.”

He looked back at her, handing her the belt buckle. “You’re Ellen Harvelle.”

She nodded, looking at her husband’s sigil reverently. “I am. My daughter Jo is the one who found you.”

“I heard you wanted nothing to do with us. Especially the Winchester Assassins. Why did you help me?”

Ellen sighed, thinking it over as she ran a finger over the buckle’s silver wings. “I may have cut off ties to the brotherhood. But I’ll never let one die if I can help it.” She smiled weakly at him. “Even a Winchester.”

Dean smiled back, flashing her a thumbs up. “Well, I appreciate it, Ellen. I really do.”

She nodded, wrapping the buckle and blade up and standing. “You can stay here another day or two, then you have to go. Abstergo may be out looking for you, and I won’t risk losing another member of my family.”

He nodded, resting back on his pillow. “I understand.”

She left him, and soon after he was asleep again. 

When he opened his eyes, he was nose-to-nose with Jo Harvelle. “Hey! What are you-”

“Why did my mom help you?”

Dean glared at her. “Well step back a bit and maybe I’ll tell you.”

Jo glared back at him as she sat in the chair her mother had occupied before. She looked at him expectantly, watching him shift around in the bed to sit up. 

“You sure I should be telling you-”

“Talk, shithead.”

Dean shot her an incredulous look. “Woah, easy on the language there, lady.” When she didn’t lighten up, he sighed. “I’m an Assassin.”

“Assassin?” He could tell she was trying not to smile at him, which resulted in a smirk. “Like, you go out and get contracts and poison or snipe guys?”

He rolled his eyes. “In a sense, yeah. But there’s more to it than that. I fight the bad guys.”

“Bad guys?”

“Bad guys, yes,” he said with a sigh. “They’re called the Templars...”

A little later, Jo was close to fully informed and a bit more relaxed beside him. She understood his tattoo, the words of the Order, the Creed, Abstergo... everything she apparently needed to know. He was glad she was satisfied; he was running out of explanations and she seemed to keep coming up with new threats.

“So, you’re trying to protect our free will-”

“Yup.”

“-by stopping these guys from obtaining artifacts that can control our minds-”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“-and killing those trying to orchestrate the end of the world.”

“You got it.”

She nodded, running the long waterfall of information through her mind. “How do I sign up?”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think your mom would appreciate that.”

“Doesn’t matter,” she said, scooting the chair closer. “I finally found out what my dad was. Why he kept disappearing. Why men with that symbol-” she pointed to his tattoo “-on their clothes and bags show up here to see my mom.” She leaned even closer. “It’s my life. I want to join the Brotherhood.”

“You will do no such thing, Joanna Beth.”

They both turned to see Ellen at the door, arms full of worn clothes that must have been for Dean. Her sharp gaze alternated between them. Jo shot out of her seat, ready to take her mother on. “But mom, it’s-”

“Your life. That I am trying to protect.” She threw the clothes on the bed by Dean’s feet. “I’ve lost enough to the goddamn Brotherhood. I will not lose you.” She looked at Dean, her lukewarm eyes cold with anger. “How _dare_ you tell her she can-”

Jo stepped closer to her mother. “It wasn’t his idea, mom! I wanted to know.”

Ellen’s gaze remained on Dean. “I think it’s best you left, Winchester.”

The girl looked at him, ready to argue, but Dean nodded his agreement. “No problem, Ellen. I’ll change and get out of your hair.”

Before Jo could argue further, Ellen took her by the arm and dragged her out of the room, leaving Dean alone with the borrowed clothes.

-^-

Dean walked into the bar as quickly as he could with the pain he was in. All eyes turned on the stranger as he headed towards Ellen. Some faces he recognized, some he’d never seen. Many were Assassins by the looks of them. He leaned heavily against the bar, trying to ignore the stares. “Listen, Ellen. I appreciate all you’ve done for me. I’ll make sure the Brothers under our control look out for you. Discreetly.”

She nodded stiffly, and Dean took that as a dismissal. He turned and made his way to the door, grateful when the bargoers finally looked away. As he crossed the porch, he sensed something. “Lebanon, Kansas. If you still feel the urge. But I didn’t tell you that.” He continued walking, not turning to Jo Harvelle slack-jawed at his knowledge of her presence.

It took him two hours, five breaks, and a stop at a gas station for some much needed food before he finally found where he left the Impala. He was more than happy to head for home.

And if Jo Harvelle showed up at the Kansas Bureau for training the next week, her father’s buckle and hidden blade in hand, he knew nothing about it.


End file.
